


Of Misfortune and Luck

by roxyryoko



Series: Drabbles in the Dark [12]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimimari Week (Fire Emblem), F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23341993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: Marianne knew she was to blame. Dimitri had fallen to her curse and now so much more than his blood stained her hands.Misfortune used to walk in her shadow, but now it ran rampant.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund
Series: Drabbles in the Dark [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590193
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	Of Misfortune and Luck

**Author's Note:**

> It’s Dimimari week so I’m glad I could think of something that works with the Felannie server’s prompt “Coming Home.” Tried a bit of a different style.

_Marianne knew about misfortune._

Dimitri should have stayed away.

The news of the crown Prince’s execution crept through Leicester like a plague that choked resolve and leeched away hope. Doubt and fear infested both noble and proletariat alike as the Imperial army sought new conquest, laying in its wake insurmountable suffering.

Marianne knew she was to blame. Dimitri had fallen to her curse and now so much more than his blood stained her hands.

Misfortune used to walk in her shadow, but now it ran rampant.

_Marianne knew about rumors._

She had heard the whispers of a man who butchered and carved and ripped Imperial generals into indistinguishable shapes and patterns of blood. She had heard Ashe and Annette’s mutterings of the prince’s brutality upon the thieves who lurked the halls of the monastery.

But Marianne also knew rumors held lies.

A towering figure stood in front of the wrecked altar and Marianne approached with caution, each step careful and light to not betray her arrival.

Dimitri was alive. Perhaps her curse had not set its claws in him after all.

She had changed much in five years.

But so had he. And it seemed her curse had stolen something more precious than life.

Dimitri snapped around, single eye rabid, teeth barred, and vicious like a dog lost to madness.

“Leave!” he snarled.

Marianne’s knees faltered. She could no more run away than she could step nearer. Something wicked flashed across his gaze, but Marianne stood her ground and willed herself to hold her head higher.

She had changed.

“No,” she said.

His eye narrowed as he sneered, “You will regret that decision.”

“No, I don’t believe that.” Marianne swallowed. “I’ve come to pray, and I will stay until I’m finished.”

He regarded her with malice, but stomped away, tattered and bloodied furs whipping behind him.

Heart racing, Marianne clasped her hands together and prayed. Not for forgiveness. Not for her own salvation. But for Dimitri’s return.

Let the Prince’s death only be a rumor.

_Marianne knew about ghosts._

Every step Dimitri took painted the ground red and in his wake death followed.

“You smell of corpses,” he laughed, stalking towards an Imperial soldier. “Now you shall become one yourself.”

His smile twisted and his relic cleaved an arm off his enemy. And then a leg. He spun, surging upon the next opponent and spearing her through the chest. He fought as if arrows and lances and swords did not hurt him even though they drew blood from his veins.

And Marianne watched. She watched until his knees gave way under him. Even Blaiddyd strength had its limits.

She clicked her tongue and Dorte trotted towards him, weaving through the bodies and limbs that remained of the prince’s victims. The closer she drew the louder his frantic whispers of delusion became.

“I will rip her head from her shoulders with my bare hand if I must. Do not fear, Father. The scratches of rats will not stop me. The time of your rest draws near.”

She urged Dorte to a stop and dismounted. “You need treatment,” she told Dimitri and his returning glare pierced her more than any blade ever had.

“Do not concern yourself with me.” His words held only venom.

“No,” Marianne refused, shaking her head. “I will be here for you. Whether you want me to or not.”

Dimitri’s brow twitched, and she wondered if he recalled when he said those words to her. Perhaps he did for he relented and allowed her to heal his cuts.

She could not heal his heart but she would not let him be a ghost today.

_Marianne knew about monsters._

“The way he tortured Randolph—what kind of monster does that?” spat Caspar, slamming his fist on the tavern table.

Hilda covered her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. “I don’t know, Caspar,” was all she could offer with a shake of her head.

Marianne could only look at her hands.

Caspar gritted his teeth together. “This is war, but there’s a line. There has to be! I don’t know if I can just stand by and let him continue to act like this! It’s not right!”

“Shh, Caspar!” Hilda scolded in a whisper. “Don’t say that too loud.” Her grip tightened on his arm. “You’re from the Empire. I don’t want to think of what could happen if he heard of a threat like that.”

“Dimitri won’t hurt any of us,” Marianne said quietly, raising her head. “I’m sure of it.”

“That’s a nice sentiment, Marianne.” Hilda gave her a look one might give a naïve child. “But I’m starting to get worried myself.”

Marianne held her gaze. “We’ve all taken life. To someone, each of us is a monster. But I think the Goddess has forgiven us for a reason. Perhaps we just need to forgive each other. Dimitri is deserving of that, too.”

Caspar scoffed, “Pfft, I’m not letting him off the hook that easily.”

“I…I don’t believe you are the one who needs to forgive him.”

The monster would be vanquished when he forgave himself.

_Marianne knew about luck._

And sometimes good luck was disguised as bad luck. A father was lost. As was someone’s daughter. But a king returned.

This time when she found him crumpled in the cathedral, storm-torn and tear-stained she knew there was no need for caution. She knelt down next to him. His gaze did not rise.

“It seems the Goddess has answered my prayer,” she mused, staring ahead at the ruins of a statue.

He remained silent for a long time, but finally he stirred and rasped, “Your prayer?”

A small smile graced her lips. “Yes.” 

She turned to him and the sorrow in his eyes stung her soul, but she could bare that burden. Carefully she laced her fingers between a set of his own. His skin was cold and clammy under her touch, but she squeezed tight and drew his hand to her heart.

Her smile beamed. “Welcome back, Dimitri.”


End file.
